


Broken Dream

by JustLyra



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Break Up, Cancer, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, New Relationship, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:56:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLyra/pseuds/JustLyra
Summary: Jorge gives up everything to chase his dream. He very nearly has it all until something threatens to rip it all away leaving him alone and every dream broken.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a therapeutic writing exercise. It won't be pretty. At times it'll be brutal. I'll probably write every day for a while and then not write for ages. I won't apologise for any of it either - it's what I need right now.

“Please don’t cry…”

Outraged, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed red, Dani looked at Jorge, the incredulity he was feeling written all over his face. “Please don’t cry? _Seriously?_ ”

“I’m sorry…” Genuinely contrite, breaking his own heart for the greater good, unable to deal with thinking about the impact on Dani’s heart, Jorge pushed his hands into his pockets, his bag at his feet. “We always knew that one day…”

Anger ripping through him, it is overtaking the pain, Dani lunged at the younger man, his balled fist connecting with Jorge’s cheek, shouting loud, “ **Bullshit!** Absolute bullshit.”

“I…” Lost for words, guilt making him want to weep, his own heart begging him to change his mind, to tell Dani he was wrong, that he’d been stupid, to say _anything_ that took the look of utter betrayal from Dani’s face, Jorge touched his hand to his cheek, the force strong enough to have sent him staggering backwards. “I really am sorry Dani.”

Four years, more if you included the years they were casually fucking and breaking each other’s hearts, slipping through his fingers for no real reason, Dani looked at Jorge, distraught at the thought of losing the younger man and having no shame about sounding pathetic. “Please don’t do this Jorge. _Please_ don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry.” Biting his lip, his fingers balled into fists by his side, resisting the temptation to reach out, to run his fingers over Dani’s stubble for one last time, Jorge bent to pick up his bag, taking a few belongings from the shared London flat that would no-doubt need to be sold, the only thing in the world that legally connected the two riders. “I’m really sorry Dani.”

Watching Jorge leave, knowing there was someone else in his life, someone that he couldn’t compete with – no money in the world able to give him a womb and the ability to give Jorge a child that was biologically theirs – Dani sank to his knees, knowing deep in his heart this wasn’t like previous break-ups, this time Jorge was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

*

“Are we wanting to know if the little one is a boy or a girl?”

Squeezing Emma’s hand, the petite blond on the bed, her modestly protected by a paper sheet, Jorge bit his lip, happiness and excitement oozing from his grin. “Yes please.”

“Yes please.” Beaming, her whirlwind romance with Jorge like something from a fairy-tale, finding themselves in the hospital less than six months after meeting, Emma nodded. “I think it’s a boy…”

“Let’s see shall we…” Moving the doppler around Emma’s stomach, her petite frame bulging slightly at the abdomen, the constant sickness meaning she’d hardly put on a pound, the sonographer laughed, “Come on baby, let us see… There we go… Now you know I can’t guarantee anything one hundred percent…”

“We know…” Mesmerised by the screen, the first scan having been indistinguishable to him, Jorge smiled as his baby’s arm moved, as if to wave. “What is your hunch?”

“I would say that looks like a little girl to me…” Clicking some buttons, sending even more shots to the printer, Jorge and Emma already having a forest full of photographs of their daughter, the sonographer put the doppler back on the stand before handing Emma a bundle of tissue. “Take your time, I’ll go and sort the prints and leave them at reception. Once you are ready make your way to the waiting room and one of the midwives will see you soon.”

“Thank you.” Leaning over the bed, Emma cleaning the clear jelly from her skin, Jorge pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead as the sonographer left the room, his heart beating rapidly as he imagined his daughter, all the things they would see and do together as a little family. “We’re having a girl…”

“You’re not disappointed?” Watching Jorge closely, able to spot a lie at a million paces, Emma grinned at the frantic shake of the head, Jorge having been delighted about everything since the first moment she told him she was pregnant, “I’m glad.”

“We’re having a girl…” Jorge laughed, beyond excited as he leaned in for a proper kiss, “We’re having a girl!”

*

Sitting on the patio, bottle of beer in hand, Jorge looked out over the mountains, wishing for the millionth time he was looking at Lake Lugano, Andorra beautiful, but somehow still not the same, still not quite home after eight months.

“Jorge?” Sliding open the doors to the garden, Ricky sighed softly, the hunched shoulders giving away how sad the other man was. Padding out to join him he put a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he sat next to him. “What’s going on?”

Shrugging, feeling numb and almost paralysed, Jorge kept his eyes on the mountains, taking occasional swigs of beer as Ricky stayed quiet to let him speak as and when he could, his text not giving away the details, just the need for someone to be there after he’d been home alone for three nights. “They kept Emma in hospital the other day…”

“Her tests didn’t make sense…”

“They ran more tests.”

“They said we’d find out in a day or two…”

“I mean, they said it might be this, but…”

Looking up at Ricky, his pupils blown wide, Jorge looked lost, his brain foggy in confusion. “How has this happened?”

“What’s happening mate?” Ricky frowned, Jorge taking three of four attempts to get the words out, him having arrived fully expecting his childhood friend to confide that he was going back to Dani, or had met another guy, his breath catching in his throat when the words finally came out of Jorge’s mouth, one word at a time garbling out between sobs as he broke down, his world collapsing around him.

*

“Hello Emma, Jorge… This is Doctor Garcia…” Taking a seat at the round table, hating the sterility of the room, the midwife’s heart went out to the young couple who had no idea of the grenade about to go off in their lives. “We’ve had your test results back and we need to have a chat about them.”

Reaching for Jorge’s hand, her instinct telling her something wasn’t good, the constant sickness and headaches being more than any of her friends who’d suffered morning sickness, and the tiredness having been alarming despite how many people had told her pregnancy was exhausting, Emma’s heartrate began to speed up, “Is something wrong with the baby?”

“No,” Reassuring them, hating the way they both smiled, the midwife fidgeted with her pen, “I’m going to let the doctor explain everything to you.”

“Is this about my urine infection? It still hasn’t gone away… It’s common in pregnancy though, right?” Lacing her fingers with Jorge, him completely silent, just staring at the doctor, Emma chewed on her lip, “Please tell me my baby is ok…”

“Your baby is fine…” The female doctor smiled, not to wide, not wanting to lull them into a false sense of security. “As you know the midwives here in the unit had some extra tests ordered for you because your infection isn’t clearing up. I was contacted by them when the results came back as they wanted me to have a look at them, which I’ve done, and I thought it was important that we have a chat.”

Tilting his head, suddenly wakened from his trance, Jorge frowned at the doctor, “What do you do? What’s your speciality?”

“Emma, your tests brought up some issues…”

“What do you do?” Interrupting, the hair on the back of his neck standing up, his heart sinking as the doctor and the midwife shared a look, Jorge closed his eyes, squeezing Emma’s hand harder. “Please just tell us.”

“Looking at the test results, including the blood tests and the scan results I’m afraid we need to do some further investigations on something we can see on your right kidney Emma.”

“What do you mean?” Complete confused, Emma instantly felt terrified as she looked at Jorge, his face having gone sheet white, his lip bright red from being bitten. “What do you mean?”

“As I say we need to do some further tests, but I’m afraid you have a mass on your kidney.” Hating this part of her job, watching the happiness tumble from Jorge and Emma’s faces, Dr Garcia took a breath. “As part of my job I have to prepare people for what may come next… We have to do a biopsy, I’d like you to stay in hospital tonight and we’ll do that, and some other tests tomorrow morning. We’ll give you a local anaesthetic and take a sample of the mass to go to the laboratory to find out exactly what we are dealing with. Normally we would do that under a CT scan, but with your pregnancy we’ll do it with an ultrasound…”

“What is it?” Jorge looked at the doctor, his desperate tone begging her not to give the answer he was expecting, “What do you think it is?”

“In my experience…” Hesitating for only a second, not wanting to prolong their agony, Dr Garcia reached for Emma’s hand, “In my experience a mass like this is usually a very clear indication of a tumour and I’d be very surprised if that wasn’t the case here.”

“A tumour?” Emma frowned, confused, before things began to click into place and she began to panic, her chest tightening as she tried to speak. “You mmean ccccancer?”

“Yes,” Clear and unambiguous, that important in her line of world, Dr Garcia squeezed Emma’s hand, “I’m afraid that’s what I mean. I’m very sorry… We will do the tests tomorrow, it will take twenty-four hours for the results to come back and then we will know exactly what we are dealing with and then we can take things from there… Do you have any questions?”

*

“So, what happens now?” Arm around Jorge’s shoulders, his friend sobbing between words, Ricky’s head spun as he tried to take it all in.

Distraught, everything overwhelming him, Jorge looked at Ricky with wide eyes. “They are doing a CT scan tomorrow. Just her chest and head. They put a blanket thing on her belly to protect the baby, but they need to check… They need… They have… They have to look to see if the cancer has spread. Then after that they’ll make a plan of what to do.”

“Do you know what that will be?”

“If it hasn’t spread then they’ll do an operation, take the kidney out… Cut out all of the cancer if they can…” Jorge faltered, closing his eyes, the lump in his throat growing by the second, hating how helpless he sounded and felt. “If it has spread then…”

“Hey hey.” Sliding to the ground with Jorge, his wails loud and animalistic, Ricky rocked him gently, arms around him firmly as Jorge finally let go of the fear and heartbreak he’d been dealing with alone for the past nights. “I’m here mate, I’m here.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Closing the door behind them, the house suddenly feeling big and echoey, Jorge put Emma’s bag down on the tiled floor, both on auto-pilot as they removed and hung up their coats and placed their shoes on the shoe rack. “Would you like a drink?”

“No.” Emma shook her head, hovering in the hallway, her life feeling like it had lost its anchor in the past week. “Can I have a hug?”

“Of course.” Moving quickly, wrapping Emma in his strong arms, hers going around his waist, Jorge pressed a kiss to her head, loving the way she fitted under his chin. “It’ll be ok. We’ll get the best specialist and we’ll…”

“Don’t. Not today.” Emma looked up at Jorge, her normally sparkly blue eyes dulled and rimmed red, biting on her lip. “It’s Friday. We can’t do anything until Monday so can we just pretend, just for a few days…”

“Pretend?” Jorge frowned, stepping back slightly to catch Emma’s eye, “Emma…”

“I know… I _know_ , but just for a couple of days, just until Monday I’d like to pretend that I don’t…” Tilting her head to the side, her eyes glassy with tears, Emma looked young and scared, her voice as shaky and frightened as Jorge felt. “Please?”

“Of course.” Jorge kissed her head, closing his eyes as her hands gripped into his shirt, each of them clinging to the other like a life raft. “Whatever you want babe, anything, anything at all.”

*

“Hi.” Ricky stepped in, Jorge opening the door for him, and instantly found himself smothered in a hug, Jorge clinging to him, rocking slightly from side to side, a stance Ricky recognised as a silent “I need help” plea. “I’m here mate, I’m here…”

“Sorry.” Breaking down, tears leaking silently as he almost burst his lip biting it to keep himself quiet, Jorge shook his head. “She’s pretending its ok… Until Monday… I don’t know if I can…”

“You can.” Wrapping his arms around Jorge as tight as he could, Ricky’s heart broke for his best friend, Jorge falling to pieces in front of him, little pitchy noises escaping. “Where is Emma?”

“Shower.” Jorge stepped back, using every ounce of strength he had to pull himself together, his eyes burning with the tears, feeling utterly bereft as he shook his head. “How do I pretend? How do I pretend that everything is ok?”

“When you are with Emma you pretend and when you are with me, or Albert, or anyone else you don’t…” Ricky followed Jorge through to the kitchen, the older man desperate for Emma not to hear his mini breakdown. “How is your Mama doing?”

Fidgeting with the coffee machine Jorge shrugged awkwardly. “She’s fine.”

“You haven’t told her?” Surprised, only a little, Ricky frowned. “I did wonder with her not turning up here yet.”

Turning to Ricky, leaning against the kitchen units as the coffee machine sparked to life, spurting hot liquid into the cups below, Jorge shook his head, hoping he didn’t sound as hopeless as he felt. “I don’t know how to tell her… I don’t even know _what_ to tell her… Until Monday and we see that other specialist says, and get the rest of the results back we just don’t know how bad it is…”

“I understand.” Ricky nodded, then shrugged sympathetically, “Well I don’t, but I get why you would want to have all of the information first. I take it Chicho doesn’t know either?”

“Christ no.” Jorge’s face blanched at the prospect, his father somehow even less happy about Emma than he had been about Dani, even though he utterly despised Dani. “He’ll be the last person to know.”

“That I do understand!” Ricky smiled softly, both reacting to the shower upstairs going silent. “Is there anything I can do? Food, drink, shopping, anything at all?”

“I don’t think so mate.” Jorge turned back to the machine, fussing around with two cups as they waited for Emma to pad down the stairs, appearing in her dressing gown with a smile, her damp hair almost curly. “Coffee babe?”

“No thanks hun… Hey Ricky.” Kissing Ricky’s cheeks, Emma wrapped him in a hug, the taller rider finding himself with a lump in his throat. “It’s ok. I know he told you. I’m glad he had you to talk too, thank you.”

“Anytime. If there’s anything…” Ricky kissed Emma’s head, the fact he believed she was utterly wrong for Jorge not making him any less fond of her generally. “Day or night.”

“Thanks.” Smiling as she stepped back, Emma bit her tongue, determined to keep up the strong façade. “Just look after him for me… Always…”

“I will…” The atmosphere in the room charged as Jorge turned away, desperate to keep the tears hidden from sight, Ricky swallowed hard, Emma’s eyes glittering with heart-breaking honesty. “I promise.”

“Thank you…”

*

“You’re quiet…” Leaning on the doorframe of Jorge’s office, Emma’s heart broke at the way she saw him try to strengthen himself before he turned to her. Crossing the smaller room, she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing kisses to his shoulder through his t-shirt, her hands spreading over his abs. “It’s ok babe… We’re ok.”

“It’s not.” Jorge put his hands over hers, lacing their fingers together, tears streaming down his face, his stomach hurting from the upset. “You have cancer Em…”

“I know, I know.” Voice soft, pressing herself against Jorge’s back, Emma tried to blink back the tears, her head constantly spinning at the questions and possible answers they’d face over the next few weeks. “I’m not in denial, I promise I’m not, I just… I’m never going to be normal again, am I? It’s going to be tests and treatments and decisions and getting sick… I just want to be me, just for a little while… Just me being me and you being you… I need something to hang on too, something to remember. Something for you to remember, something nice before…”

“Don’t…” Angry, not at her, but angry, Jorge turned, silencing her mouth with his, not willing or ready to hear her talk in any way negative. Whimpering as sharp teeth nipped his lip, Emma stealing the oxygen from his mouth like she needed it, Jorge’s hands found her hips, lifting her like she weighed nothing as he turned them, balancing her on his desk, her legs wrapping around him as they clawed at each other, lungs burning as hands pulled and ripped clothes, the air filled with the sound and smell of desperation.

*

“That’s going to bruise…” Running his finger over Emma’s hip, curled around each other on the office floor, both of them sporting bites, scratches and bruises, Jorge leaned in to kiss her softly, the polar opposite to the desperation and neediness that had gone before. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Emma nipped his lip softly, grateful that Jorge had lost his hesitation and got carried away with her, the roughness making her feel alive. “Jorge… I need to say something and I know you don’t want to hear it…”

“Please don’t…” Closing his eyes, oblivious to the fact they were naked on the floor, but still not feeling ready to hear anything that wasn’t a commitment to getting better, Jorge shook his head. “Emma…”

“I have too…” Her eyes closed, both of them whispering, Emma stroked Jorge’s cheek gently, how distraught he was the most upsetting thing for her. “No matter what happens to me, I know, I know… But no matter what happens to me, no matter what they say, I won’t do anything that will harm our baby.”

“Em…”

“No.” Firm despite her voice cracking, Emma kissed him softly again, her voice barely audible despite the silence in the room. “This baby, our baby… I already love her. I won’t harm her, not even if that means…”

“Please…” Breaking, Emma breaking with him, Jorge clung to her, the room filling with the sound of weeping as Emma’s words sunk in for them both, the reality of the situation they were facing hitting home in a brutal way.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_“Disappointing results…”_

_“Metastatic tumour…”_

_“Spread to the liver…”_

_“Targeted therapy…”_

_“Chemotherapy not as good a choice…”_

_“Prognosis very poor without aggressive treatment…”_

_“Not possible during pregnancy…”_

_“Termination is the best option…”_

“No.” That single word breaking through the fog in her brain, Emma shook her head as she looked around the table, the multi-disciplinary approach to her health meaning there was seven medical professionals sat with her and Jorge. “Absolutely not.”

“Emma…” Dr Garcia took control of the meeting, needing clarity for, and from, Emma before they could proceed. “Do you understand what we are saying? Do you realise what that decision may mean, for you?”

“It means that the cancer that will very probably kill me will definitely kill me…” Biting her lip as Jorge let out a sob, his head dropping to touch the table, the news worse than they could have imagined, Emma looked at Dr Garcia, a plea for honesty clear even before she spoke. “Be honest Doctor, I’m dying, aren’t I?”

“Well…” Dr Garcia put down her pen, chewing on her lip, once again amazed at the strength of a patient at the other side of the table. “The cancer has spread which, obviously, is a very bad sign. However, I feel I would be doing you a massive disservice if I failed to highlight to you that with treatment, targeted treatment, you could have a much longer prognosis…”

“I’m not going to live until I’m seventy-five…” Reaching for Jorge’s hand, unable to look at him, knowing the heartbreak on his face would be too much to bear, Emma shrugged her shoulders. “How long? If I do this, if I abort my baby and have this treatment then how long do I have?”

“Obviously, we can’t be absolutely sure, it depends how you react to the treatment,” Dr Garcia nodded, catching the look from Emma. “I would say two years would be the average I would expect in your situation.”

“Two years?” His eyes bulging, Jorge shook his head, his words coming out like explosions, harsh words between sobs. “You’re wrong. You must be wrong? There **must** be something you can do? Something? **Anything?** I’ll pay, whatever it takes I’ll pay… We’ll travel, anywhere in the world.”

“Babe…” Emma turned in her seat, reaching for Jorge’s face to wipe tears with her thumbs. Cupping his face, tears streaming down her own face. “There’s nothing… They know you can pay… Dr Garcia, how long if I don’t…?”

“I’m sorry.” Confirming Jorge’s worst fears, Dr Garcia closed her eyes, relieved that Emma wasn’t looking at her when she had to deliver the news. “Without this treatment, I would place your prognosis at around six to nine months.”

“Will my baby survive?” Emma turned back to face the medical professionals, almost all of them with tears in their eyes or on their cheeks. “Will I live long enough to give my baby a chance?”

“I believe so.” Smiling back at Emma, Dr Garcia pushed a leaflet across the table. “Normally we wouldn’t offer chemotherapy in your situation, not until we had tried all other avenues. However, I’ve discussed it with the other doctors and we would like to make it available to you… It is safe beyond the first trimester. During the second and third trimesters, the placenta acts as enough of a barrier to prevent anything more than a very small amount getting to the baby.”

“Will this help?” Jumping at the thought of something to help, Jorge looked up, his usually stoic exterior vanishing under red eyes and snot. “Will that give us more time?”

“It will buy a short amount of extra time, yes, perhaps three or maybe even four months.”

“Thank you.” Stunned that he was delighted at the thought of an extra few months, Jorge bit his lip. “Is there really nothing? Nowhere we can go?”

“I’m sorry…”

*

Curling on the sofa, the rollercoaster of the fay leaving her extremely fatigued, Emma nudged Jorge with her foot. “Penny for them?”

“They wouldn’t be worth a penny.” Catching her foot, rubbing the sole in impromptu massage, Jorge rested his head on the back of the sofa. “My Mama is coming for lunch tomorrow.”

Smiling, fond of Maria, Emma wriggled her toes, the firmness of Jorge’s fingers soothing the ache in her foot. “That’s good. She can help us make the plans we need. Maybe she could stay here with me at the weekend?”

“The weekend?” Jorge frowned before realising and shaking his head, firm and unwilling to be moved. “I’m not going.”

“You are…”

“I’m not.” Jorge fixed Emma with a look, his eyes glassy, “Em, they told us that you are dying. I’m not getting on a bike this weekend because I can’t even think about that right now.”

“You need to keep as much normality as possible…”

“I will…” Jorge conceded that before shaking his head again, “But not this weekend.”

“Ok.” Sensing that Jorge had thought it through, Emma nodded, accepting his decision. “You are going to the next one though, I’m not having you give up on the title…”

“I won’t.” Taking a deep breath, switching to rub Emma’s other foot, Jorge hesitated for a second before blurting out the question he knew he had to ask. “Emma, I have to ask you this… Are you sure about this? About turning down the treatment?”

“Yes.” Unequivocal, sounding stronger than Jorge thought ever possible, Emma nodded. “Absolutely. I’m not aborting our daughter. I know…” Pausing for a second to compose herself, Emma bit her lip, “I know that means that you risk the very worst outcome if anything goes wrong, and I’m sorry about that… But I have to do this, Jorge, I have to give her the chance.”

“Don’t be sorry…” Jorge dropped her foot, scooting along the sofa to haul her into a hug, pressing feather soft kisses to her forehead. “God, don’t ever be sorry. I think you are amazing. Giving her a chance… You are so strong Em, so strong. So brave…”

“Not brave.” Wrapping Jorge in a hug, her fingers digging into his back, Emma closed her eyes, clinging to each other to cry becoming something they did. “I don’t have any choice. I’m dying, I’m dying and I can’t change that for me…”

*

“I was thinking…” Startling Jorge by appearing at the bathroom door as he brushed his teeth, Emma leant on the doorframe, one hand resting on her belly, her eyes still rimmed red from earlier. “…legally, if anything happens to me then… Well, it would be better if we were married. For her… I mean, for her and you, to give you all of the automatic rights… And for me, if you were my husband then you’d be allowed to make decisions if I can’t…”

“Oh.” Head spinning, getting married something he’d always imagined, but not in circumstances like this, Jorge’s chest tightened in panic, the idea of not having any legal right to his daughter terrifying. “Yeah. Right.”

“I know it’s not a very romantic proposal…” Emma shrugged, watching Jorge for a reaction, any reaction. “Sorry.”

“I’m going to fine you…” Putting his toothbrush back on the shelf, not bothering to rinse his mouth, Jorge shook his head as he walked toward Emma, his hands going around her, “every time you say sorry then I’m going to fine you ten euros… You have _nothing_ to be sorry for Em, nothing.”

“This isn’t what you had planned for your life…”

“I daresay this isn’t what you had planned either…” Jorge kissed her gently, her lips soft under his, “Do you want to marry me?”

“I can think of worse things to do…” Wrapping her arms around Jorge’s neck, moments like this somehow feeling relatively normal, Emma tilted her head to the side, frowning slightly. “As long as I get to choose your outfit…”

*

Sitting up in bed, the sheet keeping the evening chill from his nakedness, Jorge bit his lip hard, tears streaming down his face as he watched Emma sleep, her face looking even younger and more peaceful as she slept. Wiping his face with his hand he reached for his phone, taking a shaky breath as he sent a message to someone he knew he had no right to message, but manners compelling him to do so.

Jorge

| 

 

| 

I’m sorry to message out of the blue. I don’t even know if this is your number anymore. There is going to be a lot of gossip over the next few days and I wanted you to hear the truth from me directly. I’m not racing this weekend.  
  
---|---|---  
  
Dani

| 

 

| 

Nothing to do with me.  
  
Jorge

| 

 

| 

It’s just… Emma is sick. It’s not public yet, but… Well, I just wanted to tell you directly.  
  
Dani

| 

 

| 

I know she’s pregnant. Don’t message me to gloat Jorge. That is beneath you.  
  
Jorge

| 

 

| 

I’m not gloating. I have nothing to gloat about right now. Believable, my life is a mess.  
  
Dani

| 

 

| 

Not my problem. Stop messaging me.  
  
 

Taking four attempts to compose another message, before realising that he was being horrifically unfair, Jorge put his phone down on his lap, missing more than ever before the chance to turn to his right and talk to Dani, the older man always more sensible than him.

Dani

| 

 

| 

If we’re swapping ‘you might like to know’ stories then I might as well tell you that I’ve met someone. He’s in the paddock. It’s serious and we’re probably moving in together.  
  
---|---|---  
  
Dani

| 

 

| 

So enjoy your fake life with your fake girlfriend Jorge. I’m happy, actually happy – do you remember what that feels like?  
  
 

Reading the words with pain in his stomach, Jorge let out a whimper at the last words, clearly able to remember the last time he was happy, his heart breaking again as he wondered if he’d ever feel that again.


	4. Chapter 4

"Did you hear about Jorge?" Putting his plate down on the table, Honda hospitality buzzing with people at the busy Spanish race, Marc was oblivious to the pain hearing Jorge's name caused his teammate. "He's out again. Personal reasons..."

"I hadn't heard." Dani frowned, it the second race in a row that Jorge had missed. "Not going well at Ducati then by the sound of it."

"It's not him." Sat further along the table, Jordi tilted his head, kicking himself for speaking aloud when both Honda riders turned to look at him with curiosity, and slight suspicion. "I've got a mate at Duc... It's Emma."

"Emma?" Marc wrinkled his nose, confused. "Does she want him to change teams?"

"No." Shrugging, everything cloaked in mystery even from Jorge's own crew, Jordi scooped up some of his pasta with his fork. "Apparently she's sick."

*

Walking along the corridor, the smell of bleach making his nose twitch, Jorge stopped outside Emma's room, his heart breaking a little more as he squirted some of the stingy gel onto his hands, cleaning them meticulously before putting on an apron and going through the doors. "Hey you... How are my girls today?"

*

"I think we should get married." Shifting slightly to face Jorge, Emma bit her lip, the chest drain tube beyond uncomfortable. "I want us to get married."

Perched on the edge of the bed, risking the wrath of the nurses, Jorge smiled, brushing some hair from Emma's forehead. "We are getting married. Next month, at the beach club."

"I was speaking to one of the nurses." Turning her head to kiss the palm of Jorge's hand, the niggling pain in her side making her nervous, Emma smiled sadly. "She said we can get married here. They can organise it for us..."

Shaking his head, Jorge frowned. "We don't need that. We have our plans already in place..."

"Jorge..." Reaching for his hand, resting their entwined fingers on her stomach, the healthy, wriggly baby the only shining light in the mess of her life, Emma shook her head sadly. "I don't think..."

"It'll be fine." Unable to comprehend anything else, her suggestion making him want to weep, Jorge shook his head. "You'll be fine. We'll be fine."

*

"Mr Lorenzo!" Jogging down the corridor to catch up with Jorge, Dr Garcia smiled. "Could I have a word?"

Jorge's heart sank, his hands balling into fists by his side, the appearance of the doctor never a good sign. "Sure."

"Thanks." Guiding Jorge into one of the many family rooms in the hospital, the doctor folded her arms. "Emma was discussing your wedding with one of the nurses."

"Our wedding is already planned. We're getting married at the beach club next month."

"Emma expressed an interest in getting married here, in the hospital chapel. We can do that, arrange that, with just a few days’ notice. In certain circumstances." Pausing for a second, conversations like this the single worst part of her job, Dr Garcia took a breath. "I would sign that off for you."

"We're getting married next month." Stoney faced, his tone the only hint of a plea, Jorge shook his head. "At the beach club."

"I would recommend that you consider it... Getting married here, I mean. Emma..." Faltering, Jorge's facade crumbling, the doctor patted Jorge's shoulder, that little gesture seeing him sink down onto one of the chairs. "I'm very sorry Mr Lorenzo. If there is anything we can do to help with arrangements then please do let us know."

Nodding. Her words sinking in, the message clear, Jorge let the tears fall, his sobs echoing around the sound-proof room as he was discretely left alone with his fears and heartbreak.

*

Jorge L

| 

 

| 

I know this is random, and I’m sorry we’ve not spoke for a while. Is your sister still a party planner/wedding organiser?  
  
---|---|---  
  
Hector

| 

 

| 

Hey mate. Everything ok? I just heard you are out again this weekend? Yeah Lorena still does that stuff.  
  
Jorge L

| 

 

| 

Can you give her my number and ask her to call me? I need someone to organise an event at super short notice. I’ll pay top top whack, but it needs to be v.quick and it needs to be kept seriously hush-hush.  
  
Hector

| 

 

| 

Sure, I’ll get her to call you. Is everything ok?  
  
Jorge L

| 

 

| 

No. It’s so far from ok it’s unreal.  
  
Hector

| 

 

| 

As bad as the days of the wall?  
  
Jorge L

| 

 

| 

I’d give anything for it to be only that bad again… I’d rather have the wall, Dani A and my father all kicking off while they were stitching up my finger than this…  
  
Hector

| 

 

| 

I’ll call her now. Call me if I can do anything.  
  
*

Sitting on the balcony, the hospital high on a Barcelona hill, the view probably stunning if you see through the tears in your eyes. Taking his phone from his pocket, Jorge sniffed hard as he tapped on the screen, his composure deserting him the moment he’d finished his call with Lorena.

“Mama…” Jorge wiped his eyes, his voice not sounding like his own, even his mother’s voice not giving him its usual comfort. “Can you come please Mama? She’s… She’s sick Mama, she’s really sick… I’m scared…”

*

“Ok…” Sat at the dining table, having taken a flight from London when her mother messaged her, Laura looked down at her list. “The hospital will organise the legal bits. Lorena is going to sort you some chair covers and things to pretty the room. Mama and Aunt Paula will sort the buffet with help from the bakers. Ricky is organising the drinks… Anything else?”

Jorge bit his lip, his eyes red raw and stinging, his sister politely ignoring that to focus on what Jorge wanted and needed done. “Emma needs something to wear… They said the chest drain should be out, but…”

“My friend Sophia is a seamstress. I’ll call her. I’ll go shopping tomorrow, pick up some nice dresses and give Emma a choice, then I’ll help Soph adjust it to however we need it…” Laura reached across the table, placing her hand over Jorge’s, squeezing gently. “We’ll get it all done.”

“I want to get married at the beach club…” Jorge put his head down on the table, giving in to the sobs, his mother and sister moving close to each of his sides, the three of them huddled together, united it heartache. “I want to get married at the beach club and I want my daughter to have a normal family. I don’t want this. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. I didn’t do all of that for this…”


	5. Why?

“You are doing so well baby…” Kneeling on the floor, Emma’s eyes locked on his, the pain on her face evident, Jorge squeezed her hand, hating that she was suffering so badly, “Nearly done, nearly done.”

Sat on the hospital bed, bent over the table, the doctor injecting the talc powder into the chest drain, the procedure, _pleurodesis_ , hopefully going to prevent the fluid from building up around her lung again for a while, Emma bit her lip, trying not to cry out, desperate for it to work, desperate not to have to marry Jorge with the drain in her back, craving any tiny piece of normality they could find.

*

“Dr Garcia!” Jogging down the corridor after the friendly woman, Jorge smiled, biting his lip slightly nervously, “I need to ask your opinion about something.”

“Of course. Do you want to come to my office?”

“It’s not a long question really…” Jorge put his hands on his hips, nerves coursing through his body, “The other doctor said the procedure worked…”

“It did,” Dr Garcia smiled, genuinely happy to have been able to remove Emma’s chest drain, “It’s not going to last forever, but…”

“Will it last long enough for me to take Emma out of here for one night?” Seeing the conflict on the doctor’s face, Jorge took a deep breath, “I’ve spoken to your business manager here at the hospital, there’s a team of nurses who are off duty for the night who’d be willing to work. I’ll pay, I’ll put them in a suite on the same floor of the hotel… She’s desperate to have some sort of normality to the day…”

“What are you thinking?”

“Small wedding reception… Just twenty or thirty people. Meal and a few drinks, non-alcoholic. Then a night in the hotel…” Jorge blushed, the doctor’s smile making him cringe. “I haven’t mentioned it to her so if it’s not possible then…”

“How many nurses?”

“Four. Sofia, Maria, Pilar and Olivia…”

“Ok. What hotel?”

“The W…” Hanging for her answer, his heart thumping faster than in the last corner at Jerez, Jorge raised an eyebrow at the short nod, mentally reminding himself you weren’t allowed to kiss the doctor, “Really?”

“I don’t think one night will do any harm as long as you are sensible and make sure Emma rests a lot.”

“Thank you. Thank you **so** much.”

*

“Hey, I need tomorrow off…” Hovering around the table, Marc at a sponsor event with Dani, Hector felt uncomfortable, aware of Dani’s history with Jorge, “I know it’s short notice…”

“Everything ok?” Marc frowned, Hector known for his workaholic nature, “Of course you can have the day. It’s not anything bad with the wife or kids, is it?”

“No, no,” Avoiding eye contact with Dani, Hector smiled, “It’s just a friend has a thing on… I need to go and speak to Livio about something. Thanks. Bye.”

“That was weird,” Marc chuckled, shaking his head, enjoying the momentary respite from the crowd of fans they’d been dealing with all day.

“Yeah,” Dani nodded, watching Hector through the frosted glass office wall, “It was.”

*

“Is Jorge sick?”

Jumping, grateful Dani had waited for him to finish pissing before giving him heart failure, Hector took a deep breath as he tucked himself back into his pants, “Don’t know what you mean mate.”

“You’re a shit liar,” Dani stepped back, allowing the older man to access the sink, “I know you that you know… And I know that something is going on. Is he sick?”

Shaking his head, glad he could answer Dani honestly, because Dani was right, he was a shit liar, Hector rinsed the soap from his hands, “No, he’s not sick.”

“Is she sick?”

Closing his eyes, torn between telling Dani and never telling Dani, Hector shook his head sadly, “Dani, I…”

“Is she sick or pregnant?” Shoving Hector’s shoulder, Dani paled at the look on his face, the situation obviously more serious than he’d anticipated, “Is it the baby?”

Shaking his head again, Hector reached for a paper towel, drying his hands slowly as he tried to work out what the fuck to say, “The baby is fine.”

“Good,” Genuinely pleased, because he was heartbroken, but not evil, Dani nodded, smiling slightly before frowning at the lack of relief on Hector’s face, “How sick is she?”

“They’re getting married tomorrow,” Hector chucked the paper towels in the bin, aware of how much Jorge had adored Dani, and knowing despite being out of the loop how difficult the decision to walk away much have been, “…at the hospital.”

“At the hospital?” Dani frowned, confused for a second, before swallowing hard, the realisation making him feel sick, “What hospital?”

“ICO…”

“The cancer hospital…” Dani closed his eyes, sighing softly, “She’s dying…”

“Yeah,” Hector shook his head, sadness on his face, “It’s awful. Look Dani… Dani! Dani! Dani please don’t go there… Shit.”

*

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here…”

Turning his head so fast he was sure he’d have whiplash, Jorge almost toppled off the high stone he was perched on, “What are you doing here?”

“Hector told me… Well, he didn’t tell me so much as I bullied the information out of him…” Clambering over the fence, Dani looked out, Jorge’s favourite spot high on Montjuïc giving a stunning view over the evening lights of Barcelona, “I still come here sometimes, this view is so special…”

Closing his eyes, too many memories of times here with Dani flooding back to him, Jorge almost choked on a sob, “Why are you here Dani?”

“I don’t really know to be honest…” Perching on the stone next to Jorge’s, Dani shrugged his shoulders, wondering how long Jorge had been looking pale and skinny for without him being able to see it, “It just seemed like the right thing to do… So, tomorrow?”

Jorge nodded, looking back at the view, tears streaming down his face, “Tomorrow is supposed to be the happiest day of my life.”

“It is,” Dani agreed, his own eyes stinging as he thought of Jorge getting married, remembering all the hours they’d spent googling gay marriage laws in country after country, talking casually about the prospect of marrying in London or New York when they both had the hope that they could brave it, “I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out how you hoped.”

“She’s dying…” Jorge let out a sob, his heart painful as he admitted the awful truth to Dani, “She’s dying and they said we shouldn’t wait until next month… Dr Garcia thinks she’ll be too weak then with the cancer and the drugs and our…”

“Your baby?” Dani finished Jorge’s sentence, feeling like someone had kicked him hard in the stomach when Jorge nodded, “I’m sorry.”

“God, that tells how shit it is if even you are sorry for me when you hate me,” Jorge looked at Dani, his eyes red and streaming, the feelings of hopelessness in his belly showing on his face, “I just wanted a family. That’s all I wanted. Why couldn’t I have that? What did I do to deserve this?”

“I don’t know,” Reaching out Dani couldn’t resist pulling Jorge closer, cradling him as his pained cries echoed out into the darkening sky, tears falling onto Dani’s own cheeks at the guttural heartbreak in front of him, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Why? Why me? It’s karma for what I did to you.”

“No,” Dani kissed Jorge’s head, aware he was crossing a line, but not caring, never having seen Jorge so broken as they tumbled down onto the ground, Jorge wailing on the grassy ground, his world in pieces.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. And on this one I can't promise the next update will be regular. Sometimes I can write it, sometimes it's too close to home.

“I’m very pleased to announce that you are husband and wife,” Closing her folder, the wedding almost unbearably sad, she smiled at the seated couple, their hands locked together, the bride leaning against the groom for extra support, “Jorge, you may kiss your bride.”

“Thank you,” Smiling, tears stabbing at his heart, Jorge reached for Emma’s face, not making her stand up because he knew in his heart she was struggling already, “I love you.”

Happy tears running down her cheeks, Emma hoped the mascara Laura had carefully applied was waterproof, as she leant in to kiss her new husband, “Love you too.”

*

“Mr Lorenzo,” Stepping out onto the balcony, Jorge taking a moment away from the quiet party, Dr Garcia had an apologetic look on her face, “Can I have a word?”

“There’s no need,” Looking out at the view over the city, the small room he hospital had leant them high in the building, Jorge bit his lip hard, desperately trying to fight back the tears, “She’s too weak to leave the hospital.”

“I’m very sorry,” Patting Jorge’s shoulder, Dr Garcia was pleased when Ricky came out, the two of them sharing a nod as she went back inside.

Handing Jorge a beer, no words needed, Ricky slung his arm around his friend’s shoulder, supporting him until he felt able to go back inside.

*

“Jorge…” Curling into his side, the guests all gone, the pair of them resting in the comfortable bed in her room, Emma reached for his belt, “Babe…”

Rolling onto his side, Jorge stroked Emma’s face, kissing her softly, “We can’t…”

“I want too…” Opening his belt and popping the button on his trousers, Emma paused during a coughing fit, the wound from her chest drain aching as she did, “It’s my wedding night…”

Closing his eyes, Jorge rested their foreheads together, his body reacting naturally to her fingers opening his zip and brushing against him, “I know…”

“I’m dying…” Tears streaming down her face as she reached in to stroke him through the thin cotton of his boxers, Emma dropped her voice to a low whisper, “I want to be normal… Just for a short time. I want to be your wife…”

Pressing their mouths together Jorge licked gently into Emma’s mouth, his hand stroking down her back, every action they both took slow and gentle, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

*

“Fuck…” Holding himself up carefully, not wanting to risk Emma or her bump, Jorge’s arms trembled as Emma’s nails dug into his bicep, his free hand between them, fingers circling Emma’s clit with intent, “That’s it, let go baby… Let go…”

*

“I’m here,” Holding Emma to his chest, her tears making his skin damp, Jorge closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face, Emma’s realisation that that was likely the last time they’d have sex hitting her hard, their wedding day far from what they would have planned, “It’s ok. I’m here. I’ve got you. I love you.”

*

“It’s too soon…” Still in his wedding clothes, that a cruel irony, his bag having gone missing, Jorge shook his head at the doctors, “It’s too soon.”

Dr Garcia, put her pen down, her heart breaking for Jorge and Emma, “Mr Lorenzo… Jorge… I’m so sorry. However, we must do it today. Emma is…”

“She’s tired. She’s tired because of yesterday. That’s all…”

Shaking her head, the doctor disagreed, “No. Emma has fluid building around her lungs again. Soon she’ll need another chest drain… If we delay and any fluid builds up around her heart, then the stress could cause a heart attack at any moment…”

“It’s too soon. She’s not ready. Neither of them is ready.”

*

Sitting outside the operating theatre, unable to watch his daughter’s birth, cancer taking one more thing from him, Jorge leant his head back against the wall, closing his eyes as he tried not to weep, “This can’t be happening to me. Not like this…”

*

Jumping as the doors flew open, Jorge jumped up, “Are they ok?”

“Emma is fine. She’ll be going to recovery soon. You can come to the nursery with this one if you want?”

Nodding, the tiny bundle in the incubator looking lost in a swathe of monitors and wires, Jorge caught pace with the staff wheeling her through the hospital corridors, following them into the special care unit, “Is she ok?”

“She’s a little small,” Plugging in all the monitors that were required, bustling around until she had done everything she had too, the midwife smiled at Jorge, “She is strong enough to be held... Would you like to hold her?”

Instantly nervous, Jorge trembled as he nodded, grateful when she pointed toward a comfortable chair next to the little crib. Settling himself into position, the midwife lifting the tiny bundle out and handing him to her, settling her into the crook of Jorge’s arm, “Hello you…”

“Does she have a name?” Aware of the situation, the midwife was as kindly as she could be.

Jorge nodded, the lump in his throat momentarily stopping him from speaking, tears streaming down his face as he took in the tiny features on his daughter’s face, “Alisa… Your Mama picked it, you’ll meet her soon…” Stroking her tiny cheek, Jorge almost sobbed, “It means great happiness, and that’s what you bring us… Sorry…”

“No need for apologies Mr Lorenzo, you are doing amazingly well given the circumstances. I’ll leave you and Alisa to get to know each other. I’ll bring a bottle over soon and we’ll give her her first feed.”

“Thank you,” Eyes locked on his baby girl, Jorge leant his head against the edge of the chair, “I’m your Papa…”

*

“Mr Lorenzo,” Swallowing hard as she entered the room, Jorge feeding the tiny baby with the smallest bottle she’d ever seen, Dr Garcia apologised for interrupting, “Can I have a word please?”

Panicking instantly, Jorge’s heart sank, “Is everything ok?”

“We can talk in the corridor…”

“I’ll finish feeding Alisa,” Smiling kindly, the staff all having been made aware of the reason behind the doctor’s visit, the kindly midwife scooped Alisa from her father’s arms, “We’ll be right here when you get back.”

“Is it Emma? Is she ok?”

“If we could just…”

“Please,” Standing up, watching the midwife settle Alisa into the crib in confusion, Jorge bit his lip, his heart growing heavier by the moment, “Is she dead?”

“No, she’s not dead,” Dr Garcia shook her head, taking a breath, “I think you should come upstairs Jorge.”

“She’s dying…” The bottom falling out of his world at the tiny nod, Jorge wrapped his arms around his waist, “Weeks?... Days?...”

“We’re going to bring Alisa upstairs now,” Patting Jorge’s shoulder as she busied around, the midwife smiled as kindly as she could, “Take your daughter to meet her mother, Jorge.”

*

“So tiny…” Emma reached out, stroking Alisa’s face as best she could with a cannula in the back of her hand, “She looks like you…”

One hand reaching to stroke Emma’s arm, the arm holding Alisa resting on the bed enough to give him the confidence to do that, Jorge smiled through the tears, “I don’t think she looks like anyone yet… Her hair is your colour though.”

“Can I hold her again? I want you to be able to tell her that her Mama held her more than once…”

Smiling, shifting around until Alisa was secure in Emma’s arms, a pillow supporting her, Jorge beside her, holding her up, Jorge fumbled his phone out of his pocket, “Smile…”

“I look like shit…”

Turning to Emma, both teary, Jorge shook his head, “You’re beautiful… Now smile…”

*

“Jorge?” Pushing the door of the room open, Maria’s heart sank, Jorge sat on the chair by the bed, the sound of his sobs echoing around as he clung to Emma’s hand, “Oh sweetheart…”

Feeling his mother kneel down next to him, Jorge fell into her arms, his heart broken, “She’s gone Mama, she’s already gone.”


End file.
